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She couldn’t risk that. She had already been turned away from three places. The little money she had saved while working—well, not working exactly, but rather stealing—with her friend Lydia had almost run out.

Yes, Honoria used to be a thief, or at least, a helper of one. But that’s not what she was born to do. She had not chosen the dishonest life out of boredom, but rather circumstance, and that kind of life did not agree with Honoria. She could not go back to it. She just couldn’t.

For one thing, she was a terrible thief. No matter how much Lydia tried to teach her, Honoria failed at many skills necessary to be a thief. What she did have was a talent for copying others’ handwriting, signatures, and forging documents. That’s how she was able to change her and Lydia’s identities after they met.

She gave Lydia the identity of a wealthy magnate’s widow with connections to the ton. And to herself, an unassuming lowly cousin of an impoverished baron.

All in a bid for Lydia to infiltrate the ton. That would allow Lydia access to the richest homes in London and steal from them without inviting too much notice. Once she stole enough, Lydia and Honoria would be able to leave England for good.

As much as Honoria appreciated the plan and believed in its merit, after getting Lydia a few forged invitations to the social events, she had to continue helping her friend from a distance. She could not live by Lydia’s side.

The ton and the social whirl connected Honoria to her past—the past she was determined to run away from. While Lydia thrived as the center of attention, Honoria needed to hide in the shadows.

Honoria glanced from the sunny part of the room to the shadowy corner where she stood. Perhaps, this household would be a perfect match for her.

She’d applied to work for the earl precisely because he was known to be a recluse who rarely if ever left his country estate. The previous jobs she had applied to also fulfilled this requirement. Whether the companion to an elderly lady or a governess to young girls, the locations of those jobs were far from London. Except she’d failed to secure either job so far.

This place was her last resort.

The advertisement stated that the earl was looking for a housekeeper, which was not exactly within the narrow scope of her skill set. Not to mention that at six and twenty, she would be too young to qualify. But she hoped the earl would overlook all that and that her forged recommendation letter and her work ethic would be enough.

If not, she was prepared to beg Lord Caldwell to hire her in any other capacity. She didn’t know him to have any children or an elderly relative in need of a companion. He did have an aunt, but she was a rather spry and active member of the ton.

But she could be—Honoria glanced around the unorganized study, at the desk filled with unanswered letters—a secretary?

No, being a female secretary was unheard of. Even if he’d hired her, that would invite gossip and draw too much attention to her person. And that was the last thing Honoria needed.

Perhaps… Heavens, she was ready to work as a maid at this point, as long as she had shelter over her head.

With winter’s fast approach and no more leads, she was bound to starve to death if she wasn’t hired.

From somewhere upstairs, a child’s shrill voice rose in protest.

A door slammed, and the sound of running feet thumped across the ceiling, followed by a woman’s stern reprimand and more screaming. The earl’s frown deepened, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he pointedly ignored the disturbance, his eyes still fixed on her letter.

Honoria cocked her head. Was she wrong about the children in this household? To be fair, the last edition of Debrett’s didn’t indicate that the Earl of Caldwell had any heirs but it was published in 1814. And Honoria hadn’t been in the loop with current gossip for quite some time. Perhaps, the earl had married and had managed to beget an heir already. The voice she’d heard sounded very young. Perhaps this house was in need of a nanny?

I can be a nanny. Even though she’d had no interaction with children since she herself was one.

“You do not have much experience as a housekeeper,” the earl pointed out, still not lifting his gaze off the paper. His remark was so sudden, the voice so deep, Honoria jumped a little in surprise. The earl didn’t seem to notice or care for her reaction.

Honoria licked her lips. She had no experience as a housekeeper—the made-up ones notwithstanding—although she knew what their duties entailed.

She opened her mouth to defend her made-up record, but he spoke again.

“And you were born into the gentry.”

According to my false documents, yes. “Which would tell you that I know a lot of things about running a household,” she said.

“It would also tell me that being a housekeeper is way below your station,” he noted.

She swallowed. “I don’t believe so.” Of course, it was below her station, more than he knew. But she had set aside her pride a long time ago. After everything she’d been through, some may even consider it above her station, too.

The sounds from upstairs escalated. A girl’s voice—older than the first—shouted something indecipherable, followed by a crash and a loud thump. The earl’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk, but he maintained his rigid composure.

Unruly guests?

He finally placed the paper on the desk and looked Honoria up and down before removing the spectacles from the bridge of his nose and setting them down. “However, I don’t require a housekeeper. I already have one.”